"Tell me, what should I do with him? He doesn't give me a
minute's peace, endangers himself, and endangers others. He
simply drives me out of my mind. It's either him or me. But
actually, why should I talk? Just look at him."

"He" was an eight-year-old named Natti.

The playground was full of children, but all of them seemed
like snails in comparison to him. In the time it took the
average kid to climb up the jungle bar, Natti had managed to
climb up and down it, to slide down the slide, take a fling
on a swing, toss a basketball into the hoop, and throw some
sand at a kid in the sandbox.

Natti's awesome show included a frenetic sprint across the
entire playground. The moment he reached one side, he seemed
hard-pressed not to deny the other side of his presence. On
the way, he shoved the kid who was balancing himself on a
plank, and then grabbed a swing from a girl who was about to
climb onto it, saying that it was his turn because he had
seen it first.

From there he ran to the jungle gym and mounted it, not
noticing that there were a number of kids ahead of him. After
that, he climbed on top of the parallel barrel making all
sorts of motions, which caused everyone to think that he was
about to fall. But this time he did fall.

Well, not exactly. He threw himself down purposely and a
second before his parents and the other people in the park
had heart-attacks, he stretched out his hand, and grabbed an
iron rod which jutted out from the side. Then he smiled
merrily at his stunned audience, as if to say: "Did you see
me?"

Of course they had seen him. They had seen him, had felt him,
had been pushed by him, had sand thrown in their faces, or
worse than that, had their faces thrust into the sand by him,
and were terrified of him. Whoever didn't know Natti surely
had to be deaf, dumb and blind. Everyone, from age one to one-
hundred-and-twenty, and especially his parents who were
seated at the end of the playground ashamed of their son and
without a doubt very angry at him, felt his presence.

"Tell me, what should I do?" his mother retorted. "I can't
take it any more."

"You said that already," her husband, who was no less baffled
than his wife, replied. "What do you want me to do? Take him
home? You remember how it ended the last time. I had to drag
him, and he stomped and kicked while everyone looked at us.
In the end, he got loose and disappeared for a number of
hours. What makes you think that I can solve this
problem?"

"This problem" was busy drumming on the barrel's roof.
Actually drumming is a mild way of describing what he did.
Natti discovered that a whack on the barrel's roof created a
deafening noise inside it. As a result, he would position
himself on top of it and every time a boy or a girl climbed
into it, he would strike it with all his might. This would
cause every kid who entered it with a smile to exit with
traumatized screams.

"Tell me, what should we do?" his mother asked her husband a
third time.

"I'll tell you what not to do," declared someone — not
her husband but rather an elderly man who was seated on a
nearby bench and, without a bit of shame, had listened to
their conversation. He was wearing a hat and smoking an
expensive pipe. His face was furrowed with wrinkles, but
nonetheless he seemed refined and dignified.

At first Natti's parents glared at him angrily. But something
in his appearance and in the calmness he conveyed when he
spoke, calmed them too. They had expected him to offend them
with a sarcastic remark. But he wasn't like that.

"Yes, I'll tell you what not to do," he said again. "You have
nearly or already determined that this child is your
punishment in this world. [The parents exchanged glances.
How many times had they said that, in turn?] But you are
misinterpreting what you see. You are not evaluating the
picture correctly, while I see it clearly. You are
squandering the opportunity to understand this child who
could be a source of pride for you."

Since those words were far more encouraging than offensive,
Natti's parents decided, without any deliberation and in
silent accord, not to be insulted and to await words they so
wished to hear.

"How do you envision my Natti changing his skin and becoming
my pride and joy?" the father asked sarcastically. "Up to
this very moment, he tried to be the opposite."

As if to validate Natti's father, one of the mothers in the
playground got up and began to scream at Natti with all her
might: "Stop it already! You're obnoxious. Don't you
understand? Obnoxious. Who raised you that way? In what kind
of a jungle did you grow up?"

Then, as Natti stuck his tongue out at her, his father
retorted: "My pride! Very funny."

Another elderly man, with a wan, somewhat Spartan face was
seated on the bench too. He had only come a few minutes
earlier. Turning to the Spartan, the Pipe said: "Lazer do you
remember how your mother would yell that way at Half-a-
Zloty? Sixty-five years ago?"

"Of course I remember. However she didn't say that he had
been raised in a jungle, but in a cave," Spartan replied.

"What are the two of you talking about?" the father asked,
their recollections not seeming particularly funny to him.

"We're talking about a boy who grew up in our neighborhood in
Poland," a mustached and tall senior citizen who had just
joined the conversation replied. "They called him `Yankele
Half-a-Zloty' because his mother had, in a fit of anger, once
said that she would sell him for half-a-zloty. Even today
there is a dispute as to whether she planned to get
that price for him or to pay it to anyone willing
to take him."

It seemed as if that group of senior citizens had come to a
planned meeting, because in the distance a few more
antediluvians were ambling towards the bench.

"Tell me, where were you raised? In the caves?" Mustache
called out, laughing along with Pipe, while Spartan seemed a
bit annoyed.

"Look at that kid," Pipe said as he pointed to Natti who had
forgotten the insult and had returned to the jungle,
stumbling into a fountain whose water he shpritzed in all
directions.

"Does he remind you of anyone?" Pipe asked.

"Of Half-a-Zloty!" the senior citizen chorus cried out
— in unison.

"But he's a doll in comparison with Half-a-Zloty," one of
them remarked. "D'ya remember the pail of water he poured on
himself?"

"And the fire he set in the forest . . ."

"And the briefcase `rowboat' in the river."

Every such recollection brought broad smiles to the faces of
the antediluvians, revealing the latest models of false
teeth.

"Okay, you guys. Let's get moving," Pipe said.

Supporting themselves with the bench, the senior citizens got
up. But then Natti's father said: "Wait a minute. Who is this
Half-a-Zloty whom you are comparing to my son?"

"We're in the middle of our annual reunion with him," Spartan
said.

"You don't really want to know," Pipe told the parents.

"We do," they replied. "Tell us about someone else as hyper-
energetic as our son. This might help us figure out how to
get along to him."

*

"Okay, I'll tell you," Mustache rejoined as the antediluvians
sat down again. "Now we are in our late seventies. But we
were once kids too, who studied in cheder, played in
the park and had parents and teachers.

"All of us were in the class of Yankele Half-a-Zloty, who was
the most mischievous kid in all of Poland and its environs.
If Yankele Half-a-Zloty was a kid now, he would be called
`hyperactive,' and would be taken out of cheder to
study with children with learning difficulties. But then,
hyperactive kids were called `mischievous,' and that's what
Half-a-Zloty was: mischievous — or on second thought
very mischievous, and on third thought — the
most mischievous kid we knew.

"Like today's hyperactive kids, the mischievous ones were
society's bane. Truth to tell, they were even worse. Very
quickly, Yankele Half-a-Zloty became the avowed enemy of the
teacher, the shul's gabbai, our parents, and half of
his parents.

"Why half? His mother thought that he had been born in order
to destroy her life, which wasn't particularly great to begin
with. She would beat him with a stick and curse him in front
of everyone. She was a domineering and powerful woman, and
the remark she once made in front of everyone became his
everlasting nickname: Half-a-Zloty.

"His father, on the other hand, was a quiet and gentle man.
Even though all of the municipality's complaints were
addressed to him, all he ever said about his son was: `I'll
have a lot of nachas from him one day.' This remark,
which on the surface seemed disparaging, was uttered in all
sorts of tunes — sometimes as a genuine compliment, and
at other times as a hint that eppes he still didn't
see this nachas, and at yet other times, with a bit of
anger, as if to say: `Look, we both know that in the end
you'll give me nachas, so why do I have to suffer so
much in the meantime?'

"But his father was the only adult in town who felt that way.
The rest of them regarded Yankele as a nuisance who was
corrupt from birth, and whose only aim in life was to harm,
damage, destroy anger and hurt.

"But we, his classmates, saw different sides to his
personality. We knew Half-a-Zloty as the most good-hearted
boy in the world — even though at times we felt his
presence on our bodies and sometimes cried as a result of a
push which didn't end happily, or a hop, skip and a jump
which concluded with an `Ouch! Watch your step.' But still,
deep down, we knew that if you searched high and low, you
couldn't find a deliberately bad bone in his body.

"We, the kids, saw in Half-a-Zloty many good points that none
of the adults noticed. He was compassionate and would appease
a kid who had been offended by another one, even if a moment
earlier he himself had jumped on that kid unintentionally. He
was upright and decent and he fought against injustice. He
was brave and never let anyone else be punished for his
antics. Truth to tell, he assumed responsibility for many of
the tricks we played. But even though we were aware of
his good traits, we couldn't describe them to the adults.

"Sometimes, when the whole world was against him, Yankele
Half-a-Zloty would retreat to a corner of the yard and cry,
seeming at such times like the loneliest and most unhappy
person on earth. He never admitted that he cried, and when
anyone asked him what had happened, he would say: `Something
got into my eye.'

"At a certain point, Yankele Half-a-Zloty said that he would
not continue learning the following year. His father had come
to the cheder and had tried to persuade the
melamed to relent, but the latter explained in simple
words that it was impossible to teach when Yankele Half-a-
Zloty was around and that it would be best if he studied at
home. His father left the cheder, his hand on Half-a-
Zloty's shoulder and I heard him sadly say. `I know that I'll
have nachas from you one day. But it's hard for
me to envision how it will come to pass.'

"He didn't know how right he had been. The manner in which he
saw that nachas was beyond his wildest dreams.

*

"A few months after that incident, the Nazis invaded Poland
and destroyed all that had been familiar to us: the town, our
homes, our relationships with our neighbors, the cheder, the
teachers, the games.

"We were transferred to the ghetto, and our lives changed
unrecognizably.

"For a while, we still studied with the melamed, until
one day he didn't arrive. We looked for him, and in the end
found him cast on the side of the road, dead. We, who were
only twelve-year-old kids, stood around the man who had
accompanied us for so many years and cried, not knowing what
to do.

"After a few long minutes during which we wept bitterly,
Yankele Half-a-Zloty said: `Let's drag him away from here,
before the German trucks trample him.'

"Before we had a moment to think, we found ourselves in the
center of the ghetto with the body. The levaya of our
melamed took place within an hour, while Yankele Half-
a-Zloty took care of publicizing the petiroh and
summoning as many people as possible to attend it.

"The murder of our melamed marked the official ending
of our childhoods. From then on, we were forced to part with
the privileges of the world of children, and in one instant
were thrown into a world with which even adults found it
difficult to cope.

"I wandered about the ghetto alone for a number of days, and
for the first time in my life longed for the cheder.
One day I met Yankele Half-a-Zloty, and a few other
classmates. They were carrying chairs, or actually hollow
tree trunks that somewhat resembled chairs.

"`The entire class?' I retorted. `Is there still such a thing
as a class?'

"`Come and see,' Yankele Half-a-Zloty said. `It's in the
former fish factory.'

"The fish factory's former building had been bombed, and
except for the floor and a few piles of stones and a horrid
odor of dead fish, it didn't contain much. I followed Yankele
Half-a-Zloty and found the entire class there. Some kids were
seated on makeshift chairs, others on the floor. All were
listening to the shiurim which were delivered in
turns, by each boy.

"I saw another class situated behind a large mound of stones,
and yet another one, on one of the half stories that still
remained. And who do you think jumped from class to class,
bringing books, chairs and food and breaking up fights, if
not Yankele Half-a-Zloty in person?

"Just like in the past," Mustache continued, "this time too,
Yankele Half-a-Zloty would jump from one place to another in
a flash. However instead of playing tricks, Yankele Half-a-
Zloty was occupied with caring for the needs of the junior
melamdim who popped up in an instant, before they
could found a professional federation and go on strike. In
that way, the most mischievous kid of all became the
principal of the youngest talmud Torah staff in the
world.

*

"In the end, it became clear that the fact that we had stayed
in the former fish factory had paid off. A week later, trucks
with German soldiers arrived in the ghetto and called to its
occupants to assemble in the main square. The kids who heard
the cries wanted to leave. But Yankele Half-a- Zloty said:
`Where are you going?'

"`They announced that we have to go,' the kids replied.

"`And what happened last time they made such an
announcement?' Yankele asked. `Fifty percent of the ghetto's
kids and 25 percent of its adults disappeared.'

"`Where do you think they took them?' Yankele again asked.
`Did they return to their homes? Did the Germans take them to
a spa? No! They took them to work camps or to be killed. So
why should we obey them?'

"`But if we don't report to the square, they'll kill us,' a
thin boy named Dov cried out.

"`Did you go to the square during the last actzia?'
Yankele retorted. `I didn't go, and here I am alive and
kicking. I think you should follow my example. I have a
hiding place where we can stay until they calm down.'"

"It's hard to say that the kids were convinced by Half-a-
Zloty. However, something in the confidence he conveyed
caused nearly all of us to follow him to the hideout,
nonetheless.

"That hideout was an underground one, which we entered from
the fish factory. Yankele led us down an iron staircase, and
we filed into the hideout. In the end two kids remained
outside, Avreimi our classmate and Shloimi, from a lower
grade.

"`We're not going inside,' Avreimi declared. `They told us to
come, and we have to go.'

"`You don't have to go,' Yankele replied. `The Germans
have no right to tell you what to do.'

"`But they'll kill us if we don't show up,' Avreimi and
Shloimi protested.

"`Only if they catch us,' Yankele said. `My hideout seems
complete, and it has already proven itself. Even if they
catch us, there's an escape route which leads to the square,
and they won't be able to kill all of us.'

"Shloimi was convinced. Avreimi wasn't.

"`I'm going. They said we have to go,' he repeated like a
broken record.

"Shloimi went in, and Yankele closed the door, while we began
to recite Tehillim. After seven nerve-racking hours,
Yankele disappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he
said: `The Germans have left. I'll let you out, one kid every
five minutes, so that their patrol guard won't notice that
such a large group of kids evaded them.'

"It took us an hour to disperse and when we reached our
homes, we learned the bitter truth: all of the other children
had been taken by the Germans, including Avreimi.

'It's hard to describe our parents' joy when they saw us,
after not having known where we were for so long. They
toppled on us and smothered us with hugs and kisses, and when
they heard what had happened, warmly thanked Yankele Half-a-
Zloty for the initiative that had saved their children.

"The following day, all of us appeared in the cheder
in the fish factory, where Yankele said:

"`Yesterday, bechasdei Shomayim, we were saved from
the Germans and we must continue to be saved. Yesterday,
someone said that we had to go because the Germans had said
so. But I'm telling you to erase those words from your minds
The Germans are our enemies. They killed thousands of Jews
and have taken away others. The orders they give us are not
for our benefit, but for theirs. We have to do the opposite
of what they command — not openly of course, but in a
clever manner. Only those who disregard the Germans' orders,
have a chance of surviving.'

*

"During the ensuing days, Yankele the mischievous and
disturbed kid, became not only the children's leader, but
also the leader of nearly the entire ghetto, without
discontinuing his mischievous and disturbed behavior. His
original thinking, which in the past had branded him as an
oddball, his ability to think unlike everyone else —
which in the past had tagged him as dangerous to his
environment — his courage to carry out his ideas, which
in the past had been considered chutzpah, his
swiftness, which in the past had been considered rashness
— all now manifested themselves as top-notch leadership
qualities.

"No one recalled his old escapades, because they were
replaced by new ones, all of which were highly effective. The
only trace of his past was his nickname: `Yankele Half-a-
Zloty,' a nickname even he wouldn't have renounced had he
been asked to. But he wasn't asked.

"Two weeks after the actzia, Yankele made peace with
his short-tempered mother, who had stopped beating and
cursing him, and instead strutted about the ghetto, boasting
about her Yankele. Yankele's father summed it up with one
sentence: `I knew that you would bring me nachas one
day.' And there was no one happier than Yankele at such
times.

"But that happiness lasted only two weeks, because at their
end there was another actzia.

"While we were in our hideout, our parents were taken to the
unknown, and when we left it we discovered that we were
alone.

"We all broke down, crying bitterly. Some kids wanted to run
after the trucks, but Yankele appointed others to stop them.
With his typical fire, he ran from kid to kid, calming and
scolding us at the very same time, infusing us with hope,
while advising us to reconcile ourselves to the situation and
to continue on.

"In the middle of the night, I saw Yankele Half-a-Zloty
sitting down on a hill and crying bitterly. It was the deep,
torn, and tragic cry of a youngster who bore the whole world
on his shoulders and who barely recalled that he was still a
youngster. I neared him and placed my arm around his
shoulders in order to soothe him. He continued to cry for a
while, and then said: `Why davka now? Why davka
now?' But I didn't understand what he meant.

"Both of us fell asleep on the hill. When I awoke in the
morning, Yankele Half-a-Zloty was no longer there. Peering
down from the hill, I saw him organizing the kids, as if
nothing had happened.

"At that stage, it was very dangerous to study in the
cheder and Yankele placed each class in a different
hideout, bringing to mind the verse, `Vehoyoh hamachaneh
hanish'ar lifleitoh.' Repeatedly, he would declare:
`Avreimi will be the last korbon in the class. We will
stick this out together and be saved.'

"We stuck it out this way for half-a-year, uniting under the
leadership of Yankele Half-a-Zloty and no one from our class
was harmed. During those six months, most of the kids in our
class became bar mitzvah. With typical verve, Yankele
arranged separate seudas mitzvah for each and every
one, securing food far richer than the potato peels we had
grown used to eating.

*

"One day, the Germans announced that the ghetto would be
evacuated. According to the information at Yankele's access,
the Germans intended to bomb the ghetto after the evacuation,
so that whoever didn't come to the square that time, would be
liquidated along with the ghetto. Yankele announced that this
time we should report for the actzia and let
ourselves be taken by the Germans. `We'll decide what to do
on the way,' he then added.

"Prior to the actzia, Yankele delivered a speech to
the remaining occupants of the ghetto. In it he said that he
had long ago concluded that the advantage of the Germans was
their organizational ability and their success in
disciplining the residents of the countries they had
captured.

"`If all of Poland's Jews had dispersed at the beginning of
the war to hundreds of places without any link with their
conquerors, it would have been very difficult to liquidate
them. In such a situation, the Germans would have had to
assign three soldiers to pursue one Jew, and more to man the
front,' he said. `They don't have so many soldiers, and their
strength is dependent on the degree of our obedience to them.
Thus, if we don't obey them, our chances of survival are
greater.' Seeing that his audience doubted his words, Half-a-
Zloty launched on a personal vidui:

"`To my dismay,' he began, `I have grown accustomed not to
obey and to think independently. Whoever knew me saw that
trait as negative and as a serious problem, which it was,
because it is inconceivable for students to disobey their
teachers, and to do whatever they please.

"`I don't know whether or not my father is alive. But he was
the only one who would tell me: "I'll yet see nachas
from you." He never explained what he meant by that, except
for one time when he said:: "Everyone sees your deeds, but I
see your heart and spirit. You're a good boy, who doesn't
deny or counter the chinuch he has been given. It's
only your spirit which rages, and your deeds, not your
thoughts, which tag along with your spirit. One day, you will
combine your raging spirit with the chinuch you
received, and will be the best of all — a leader."

"`To my dismay, I didn't merit to tell my father that this
day has arrived. I wanted to tell him that a number of times
but didn't dare. One day he was simply taken away and I don't
know what happened to him.

"`Now we have remained and bechasdei Hashem will be
saved, if we make an effort. One must listen to teachers and
parents, but it is forbidden to listen to the Germans. I
plead with you: don't listen to them, but rather to
yourselves. When the Germans confront you, put the thinking
cap of the former and bad Yankele Half-a-Zloty on your heads,
instead of the good caps you have used until now. That's the
only way you will survive, and become what your parents
trained you to be.

"`I plead with my parents to forgive me for the anguish I
caused them,' Yankele continued in a broken voice. Then,
bursting into tears, he said: `But perhaps Hashem created me
differently so that I would grow up differently, and be able
to tell you all this now, and to save you.'

"When he finished, we wanted to tell him how much we esteemed
him and how he wasn't a bad boy at all. But we couldn't. He
was so distressed, so distant, that we were afraid of him,"
Mustache added, while everyone, except Pipe, who was busy
taking another whiff, nodded.

"The trucks arrived early the next morning," Mustache
continued, "and we mounted them without any resistance. After
that, they took us to the train station. Throughout the
entire jaunt, we maintained eye contact with Yankele, whose
order in the meantime was: `Don't do anything.'

"We were removed from the trucks and pressed into the train's
cars. The entire class was pushed into one car along with
Yankele. It was a cattle car into which hundreds of people
had been shoved, some of whom could not withstand the
congestion and died. The stench, the shouts and the crowding
were intolerable, and many lost their will to live even
before arriving in the camp.

"But we managed to move toward Yankele and to gather around
him.

"When the train began to move, Yankele found a piece of iron
with which he peeled the car's wooden framework, making a
hole in it. `We have to wait until we near the border, but
must escape before we reach the last station,' Yankele
whispered to us. `In the meantime, let's begin to bore a hole
through which we will be able to jump later on.'

"`You said jump, to little boys,' an elderly person
intervened. `Don't you dare because you'll be killed that
way.'

"Yankele included his reply to the elderly man in his pep-
talk to us, saying: `Jumping is very dangerous and might lead
to death if your heads bang into a rock or the ground.
Therefore, when you jump, double over and try to protect your
head with the rest of your body. If your other limbs are
injured, they will heal, but your heads won't.'

"`Just to be sure,' he continued, `say Shema Yisroel
before jumping, because some of us might not survive the
jump. However, this is preferable to reaching the final
station, which is like its name. After it, no one will
survive.'

"Yankele decided that Eizik would be the first to jump,"
Moustache said, as he pointed to one of the senior citizens
who appeared heftier than the rest. "He himself would be the
last. Then he said that after jumping, each boy should head
toward the central point, and on the way pick up those who
had been injured or choliloh killed while jumping.

"The escape began within ten minutes. Yankele stood beside
us, shouting: `Jump,' as the boys tumbled out, one after the
other. There was no time. The train was moving quickly and we
had to remain together. When my turn came, I grabbed
Yankele's hand tightly and said: `See you soon.' Then I
jumped.

"I was considered the central point, and the rest were
supposed to move towards me. Slowly, more and more kids from
our class reached me, some limping, others black and blue,
and others on the arms of their friends. After two hours of
waiting, we took a poll. Only two were missing, Meir and
Yankele.

"We waited anxiously an additional half hour and then saw
them. Yankele was carrying Meir, who had jumped before me and
had broken his leg. All of us rushed over to them, and hugged
them. How we laughed. How we cried. We were once again an
entire and united class.

"We marched for a few hours into a thick, nearby forest where
we remained for two full years. I won't tire you with the
details of that period. All I wish to say is that at their
end, we were fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds with the
experience of forty-year-olds.

*

Mustache stopped his story, and looked at Natti's stunned
parents.

"Which of you is Yankele?" Natti's mother asked — a
question which had bothered her since the beginning of the
story. The senior citizens looked at each other. Then Spartan
said: "We'll tell you that at our annual reunion which will
take place across the road."

"But the only thing across the street is a cemetery," Natti's
father said sarcastically.

"That's precisely where we are headed," Pipe rejoined.

"It doesn't sound like an ideal place for a social reunion,"
Natti's mother noted somewhat critically.

"It's not really a social reunion," Mustache replied. "We've
come to see the plot which we bought for all of us. You have
to understand that we grew up together, lived together, and
in due time plan to be buried in one plot."

"But you haven't finished the story," Natti's father
declared.

"Where were we? Oh yes, in the forest," Mustache
continued.

"We learned of the war's end only a month after the Nazis had
been vanquished. At that time, we began to march back home to
our town only to discover that there was nowhere to return
to. Slowly, the news of what had happened to our Nation, our
neighbors, our parents and our families began to seep into
our minds. It is difficult to describe what we felt then. All
I can say is that we understood that we were perhaps the only
class in all Poland that had remained intact, a fact which
strengthened our resolve to remain together come what may.

"At that point, we decided to go up to Eretz Yisroel
illegally. We secured tickets, and boarded a Maapilim
boat.

"On the way, I drew very close to Yankele, who had become a
very serious young man, and even a spiritual leader. He would
daven at length, and study Tanach and a
Mishna he had taken with him. He also delivered a
daily shiur, and obligated us to participate in it,
and even to deliver shiurim, ourselves.

"A short while before we reached safe shores, we stood on the
deck, leaning on the rail and chatting about life in
general.

"Yankele spoke a lot about his parents, especially about his
father whom he loved very much. `All that I am today is in
the merit of my father, who believed in me,' he would say
repeatedly. `If he had joined all the others who regarded me
as having been born bad, I would probably have believed them
and have become truly bad. However, he chose to believe me
and to believe in me. He didn't talk a lot, and whenever he
was upset by me or heard a complaint against me, he would
say: "I know that I'll have nachas from you one day."
Then he would kiss and hug me and say: "I know that your
mischievous behavior is only temporary. I am aware of your
true worth, and know what will become of you when you grow
up. I know that you don't really believe that one should
disturb the teacher, and that you don't think that one should
be wild and not study. I can't explain why you are so unruly.
But I do know that you shouldn't act that way."

"`After saying all that he would punish me — not out of
anger or hatred nor in order to get even with me, but rather
in order to make me pay for my misdeeds.

"`He never stopped loving me, even when I caused him anguish.
When I embarrassed him, he would laugh loudly, and say: "I
love the disgrace you cause me. You're still a child, and I
won't be ashamed of anything you do until you are twenty.
Besides, I know how proud I'll be of you when you grow
up."

"`Those were brilliant words and do you know what? He wasn't
putting on a show. He really loved me, really believed in me,
really laughed with all his heart when I embarrassed him, and
really anticipated the kovod I would one day bring
him. He never punished me for the disgrace I caused him, but
only for my bad deeds. He was so wise. His understanding of
the human soul, and of mine in particular, was so deep. He
knew that no one is born bad and that all children differ
because each one had his own purpose in life. He knew that
parents had to be parents, and that they couldn't be parents
if their children were perfect. He knew and even told me that
Hashem hadn't in vain given him a child with so much energy,
so much daring, so much swiftness of thought and deed. He
knew that Hashem doesn't send neshomos down to the
world just like that. He hadn't the slightest doubt as to
what would eventually become of me. It seemed that he turned
all the sorrow I caused him into additional proof that my
future would be glorious.'

"Yankele said all this in the middle of the night while
standing in a remote corner of the deck. Then he began to
cry, the sound of his weeping being swallowed by the roar of
the waves.

"`What hurts me most,' Yankele continued, `is that he didn't
wait a bit longer. Abba, why did you leave me before your
time? What were your final thoughts? Why didn't you let me
show you the nachas you anticipated? Why?'

"I tried to soothe him, and to tell him that his father was
still alive in Shomayim, and had seen how he had
organized the cheder and how he was growing up. But he
cried even harder and grew sadder, feeling that he had lost a
grand opportunity to express his gratitude to his father for
having believed and loved him."

*

"When we reached Eretz Yisroel's shores," Mustache continued,
"we were suddenly surrounded by a number of British ships.
British soldiers boarded our boat, and gained control of us.
Ordering us to assemble on the deck, they informed us that
they intended to send us back to Europe. A commotion broke
out and the passengers began to throw objects at the
soldiers. The soldiers felt attacked, and began to fire at
the passengers. One of our classmates was hit and fell off
the boat into the sea.

"Immediately, Yankele jumped into the sea after him, and
clutched him so that he wouldn't drown. But the boy was
heavy, and Yankele had to go underwater many times in order
to keep the boy afloat.

"It took a while until the crew let down a rescue boat. Both
of them were brought back to the deck. The boy who had been
shot was in a critical state, and Yankele who had swallowed
salty water fared no better. The crew pleaded with the
British soldiers to let the two boys off the boat in order to
save their lives. The British agreed, but we were sent to
Cypress. It was only when we finally reached Eretz Yisroel
that we learned that one of the boys had died in the
hospital — the only boy out of our entire class who had
died, except for Avreimi. We wept bitterly and our young
hearts, which had known so much sorrow, found it difficult to
cope with such a blow. We found out where the boy had been
buried, and met beside the fresh grave, promising to do our
utmost to remain united and to help each other throughout our
lives.

"All of us married and established families. But every year,
on our friend's yahrtzeit, we convene at his grave.
Over the years, we decided to purchase a plot where each of
us would eventually be buried, and in that way to remain
together forever.

"Today is the yahrtzeit, and now that we have all
gathered here let us go over to the grave and conduct a
ceremony in memory of the only classmate who has no
descendants."

The senior citizens helped each other up, and headed towards
the cemetery. Natti's parents, who by then felt part of the
group, joined them. Above all they wanted to know which one
of them was Yankele!

The plot contained only one small grave — that of the
boy who had died when he was still so young. Natti's parents
rushed over to the grave, and when they reached it cried out:
"No! No!"

The following words were inscribed on it: Here lies the
young Yaakov (Yankele) ben Yosef and Soroh Cohen, who saved
his friends from the Holocaust and lost his life on Eretz
Yisroel's shore while saving a friend. Upon his death, he
pleaded with parents to believe in their children under all
circumstances, even trying and stressful ones, and to shower
them with love and respect, so that they would be able to
settle down and eventually grant their parents much, much
nachas.

*

Natti's parents wept bitterly. "How could it be that he died?
You said that he saved . . . "

"I am the boy Yankele saved," Pipe suddenly cried out, as he
moved toward them. "I was shot and fell into the sea. Yankele
jumped in after me and saved my life.

"We were taken to a hospital where my wounds were treated.
While I recovered, the condition of Yankele, whose lungs had
filled with water, rapidly deteriorated.

"As we lay beside each other, he asked me to listen to his
final words.

"Alec," he told me. "I see that I won't survive much longer.
Don't feel bad. It is Hashem's will. I take comfort in the
fact that my father is waiting for me in Shomayim and
that I will be able to tell him that his hopes for me came
true. I want him to say that he saw this from Above, and that
he has nachas from me.

"I charge you with the task of telling my life-story to the
entire world, in order to bring light to children like me. I
want you to tell parents who are privileged to have
mischievous children, who seemingly can't stop disturbing and
harming, to be patient.

"Tell them that Hashem never brings a bad neshomoh
down to the world, and that much good is imbedded in their
children's personalities. Tell those parents to constantly
hug their children and say: `The bad days are over. We
believe in you and are certain that we will eventually derive
only nachas from you.' Tell those parents not to
regret that they have a restless and mischievous child, but
to be glad that they have merited to raise such child.

"I want those children to know and to hear that their parents
believe in them and love them, even if they must punish these
children for misbehaving. I want those children to be hugged,
kissed and believed in. I want you to write all this on my
tombstone.

"But don't suffice with that. Instead, tell whoever will
listen to you how my father treated me and how I tried to
repay him all my life for his understanding and kindness.
Tell those people that their disturbed child is the very same
one who will one day honor them more than anyone else will.
He is the one who will take care of them when they are old.
He is the one who will bring them the most nachas,
even if they punished him when he was young — provided
that the punishment wasn't the result of anger or hatred."

Everyone wept — Spartan, Pipe and all their friends,
and of course Natti's parents, who wept the most.

Suddenly a little boy piped up: "Ima, Abba! Why are you
crying?"

That little boy was Natti, who had searched for his parents,
and had found them across the road, crying beside a small
grave.

"Why are you crying?" he asked again.

Then and there Natti was treated to the warmest hug he had
ever received in his life. His mother drew him closer to her
heart with great love.

"My Natti," she sobbed. "You're so special, so sweet, so
good. Even though you are so mischievous, we love you so much
and believe in you. We are certain that one day you will
bring us a lot of nachas."

Dedicated to those who are capable of being leaders,
besiyata deShmaya — industrious, alert and
bright children who have excess energy and are called
"hyperactive."